Churn

Churned the blood, the soulless pits.
’Neath chasms devoid of light.
Rain begotten of cloudless thunder,
As lightning smote their sight.

Homes lost since. Boats long burnt,
They thought over Fate’s cruel hand.
With naught but a will and a ray of hope,
They sought to empty the land.

’Hold high honored hell-bent helms.’
Spake the pack’s sole lead.
’Revenge for our rightful realms.’
And this did the brethren heed.

Hills and dales; cliffs and vales.
Their legs paid no mind.
Boiling blood and rabid rage
Drove the brethren blind.

Came the dawn, the hour at hand.
Their tormentor would die,
Would reap the seeds that he had sown.
Flesh and bone would fly.

- Rimesorrow